


Meeting Lix Storm

by S_Winter_Fitzgerald



Category: Borgen, The Hour
Genre: AU, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3477578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Winter_Fitzgerald/pseuds/S_Winter_Fitzgerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1975. Hanne Holm is a young student at the Danish School of Journalism when she comes across Lix Storm's work and is instantly fascinated by it, which leads her to visit an exhibition at the BBC. Will she meet Lix in person too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting Lix Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by my viewing of The Hour and Borgen and the realisation that these two characters would probably get along very well, considering how similar they are.  
> Given that I don't think a time-travelling AU story would turn out that well (in my hands at least), I decided to leave people in their own generations and realities and work from there. 
> 
> I hope the three other people who may be interested in this enjoy this story.

Hanne’s eyes burned, her back ached, and her stomach roared, but she couldn’t be any more content. It was somewhat expected, considering that she had chosen to make women World War II correspondents the theme of her assignment, despite Professor Akselsen’s many objections. _To hell with Professor Akselsen_ , she thought, pushing another microfilm into the reader. At first, she had meant to write about people like Martha Gelhorn, Mary Welsh, Lee Miller or Helen Kirkpatrick, women she admired by their braveness and commitment as well by their writing and talent, but as she rummaged through ledgers and introductory texts, she stumbled upon a less known British reporter. Lix Storm. A name like that was bound to catch her attention, but Hanne grew fascinated by this woman with every article she read, with every of those photographs depicting the horrors of the Spanish Civil War,  the exhaustion but also the faint hope in the eyes of the soldiers in Dunkirk, the Allies disembarking on the beaches of Normandy. The words were vivid, strong and remarkable and the images raw and yet with a certain sense of, Hanne didn’t want to say ‘beauty’, but she didn’t know exactly how to phrase it differently.

_They were one of the last to surrender. She was running away from her house, leaving everything. A row of men were being executed just behind that door. Amongst them her husband. She… she didn’t look back._

«Miss…»

Hanne jumped in her chair. The librarian was on her right, but she hadn’t noticed her approaching.

«Yes?», Hanne said in a low tone of voice, wiping some tears with her fingers.

« I’m sorry if I scared you, but we’re going to close and I have to ask you to leave.»

Before saying a word, she reflexively took a look at her watch, even if it could seen through the windows that twilight had fallen over Aarhus some hours ago.

«Of course, of course. I’ll just gather my things.»

Yet, when the librarian walked away, she wasn’t that swift at getting ready to go home and sit quietly at the table for a minute more.

 

* * *

Hanne was interested in the general history of the BBC obviously, but her eyes darted across the informational texts by the antique cameras, reels, scripts, microphones and photos of the people who had helped to make the BBC the reference in journalism it was today.

 _If I don’t see anything in the next room, I’ll ask,_  she promised herself, as she made her way into the temporary exhibition at the BBC Archive Centre, after being able to convince Ingrid, her cousin, to take two hours of their trip to London to check it.

The guide, a man not much older than Hanne, announced:

«And now.. . the fifties. This was the decade where the Lime Grove studios opened, the coronation of Queen Elizabeth was broadcasted live and watched by an estimated audience of 20 million peo-.»

There she was. In a black and white picture of the team behind ‘The Hour’, gathered around a tall square table in the middle of the studio, taking care of the last details of that night’s edition, perhaps.

Lix stood on the left, between Hector Madden and Freddie Lyon, with a concentrated look upon her face and clad in a dark suit and a silk shirt, a cigarette  in her right hand. There was something of Katharine Hepburn, but still very true to herself, at least in light of what Hanne had read.

Everybody looked rather stressed in that photograph, in fact. Furrowed brows, pursed lips, and stiff shoulders – Lix’s, the presenters’, Bel Rowley’s, the producer, Isaac Wengrow’s, researcher and sometimes journalist, Randall Brown’s, the Head of News for the show in its second and final series.

Regardless of her admiration for Lix’s work, Hanne hadn’t had the chance to see any episodes of ‘The Hour’ yet. Despite how well-stocked the _Danmarks Journalisthøjskole_ (Danish School of Journalism) library was, it didn’t have any available, due to how hard they were to come by. Given that it had been a live programme and the tapes were very expensive, only a handful, if much, of editions had not been wiped and recorded over, like what had happened with the majority of its contemporary shows. Nevertheless, based upon what she had read about it, she believed it had many characteristics that would appeal to her – bold news coverage, in-depth analysis, interviews that cut to the point and asked what had to be asked without subterfuges, produced by a woman and with Lix heading up the foreign desk.

For the moment, Hanne didn’t have that much professional experience, but the one she did have had been very telling of how hard it was for a woman to navigate a men-dominated field as it happened in journalism. (Not that it was exactly unexpected. It wasn’t that different of having to deal with Professor Akselsen, truth be told). She could only imagine how much worse it had been for the female journalists that had come before. But they had gone out and done what they wanted and so would she, fuelled by not only by their example, but also by her own persistence and curiosity. Sooner or later, Hanne Holm would take the journalism world.

* * *

The exhibition had lived up to her expectations, but she couldn’t shake off a certain degree of disappointment. It didn’t seem very in line with her personality, she acknowledged, but Hanne had hoped she would come across Lix somewhere in the BBC, even if she knew at the same time that it was a long shot.

They were walking towards the gate when Ingrid said:

« Isn’t that Lix Storm?»,  trying to point in the most subtle manner she could.

Hanne looked in the direction to which her cousin was meaning to draw her attention. She knew Ingrid would not say something like that just to tease her.

Her hair was of a light grey and still short yet straighter instead of in those curls she wore in the 50s and she was wearing dark-rimmed glasses, but Hanne had no doubt that the woman making her way past the gate was indeed Lix.

 _I have to talk to her,_ Hanne thought as soon as she recognised her. She wasn’t exactly a religious person but it was difficult not to frame that encounter as a sort of answer to her not-prayers.

Hanne started to walk faster towards the other woman. Lix was wearing a beige trench-coat over a dark suit and silk shirt and her omnipresent red lipstick. Even if her outfit wasn’t that different from what she wore in the photographs Hanne had just seen, it didn’t look ridiculous at all but covetable and cool instead. Ingrid wasn’t familiar with Lix Storm’s accomplishments as well as her cousin but their reaction had been quite similar: _I want to be her_.

«Ms. Storm?», she said, before coming closer, but already in proximity enough she didn’t have to scream to be heard.

Lix looked at Hanne with a surprised look in her face.

«I’m sorry if I frightened you or if this isn’t pertinent, but I’m a huge fan of your work and I felt I needed to say so», Hanne continued, a bit flustered and speaking faster than what she normally did so.

«Not at all. It’s always pleasant to meet a fan of one’s work. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?», Lix replied with a smile, stretching out her hand.

«Hanne. Hanne Holm.», she said, taking it. « And this is my cousin Ingrid.»

« So, tell me, Hanne and Ingrid, how did you  find my work? You aren’t from around here, are you?», Lix asked moving away from the gate so they weren’t in the way and signaling for the young women to follow her.

«We come from Denmark. I’m studying Journalism and was doing some research for a school assignment when I came across the articles you wrote and the pictures you took during the Spanish Civil War and World War II. They were outstanding.»

Hanne wanted to be able to express how moved she had been both by the articles themselves and the situations they depicted as well as by Lix’s talent, but she was finding it harder and harder to talk as the meeting went on.

«What drew you to Journalism?»

«The chance to make a difference, to have a platform to denounce what’s wrong and promote its change, as idealistic as it may sound.»

«It’s good to see you are aware of how difficult it is, because it is indeed bloody difficult, if you pardon my French.»

«But you did it many times. In The Hour, for instance.»

«We did. But at what price sometimes?...», Lix said, not exactly asking a question, « we were lucky no one on our team died, Freddie was close nevertheless, yet other people involved in our investigations weren’t that fortunate.»

«I’m willing to pay that price.», Hanne said, very seriously.

«The world needs journalists like you.»

«And you.», she said sincerely. Lix might be nearly 70 but there was still a lot of fire in her, she was sure.

« Thank you, Hanne. It’s true that I haven’t read anything you’ve written but I’m sure your articles will be terrific too. And your passion for journalism… You have it and it’s a joy to see.», Lix said, in a very convincing manner.

«I really hope so. », Hanne said with a shy laugh, «I’m counting on my own abilities and your example to achieve it.»

 _Maybe this had been too forward and too corny_ , she wondered right after those words had left her mouth. Until that moment she had believed she wasn’t the type of person to lose it when facing one of her idols, but she didn’t manage to be as calm and collected as she hoped to.

Lix laughed heartily.

«I won’t deny that my ego really appreciated hearing you say that. An old lady needs to have her ego praised from now and then.»

Hanne and Ingrid laughed too, even if they didn’t think of Lix as an ‘old lady’.

«Would it be too strange if I asked you for an autograph?», Hanne said, still a bit embarrassed.

«How could I refuse? »

Hanne fished her notebook and a pen out of her handbag.

«I would have had much trouble finding mine. My bag it’s in a permanent state of chaos.», Lix confessed, getting ready to write.

«Is your name spelt H-A-N-N-E?», she asked before continuing.

«Yes.»

Hanne didn’t want to even try to get a glimpse at what Lix was writing before she had the chance to do so alone, where people couldn’t see her reaction, whatever it might be. So, in order to avoid doing so, she kept her gaze strangely fixated on the guard’s cabin by the gate.

« And back to its rightful owner», Lix said, handing the pad and the pen to Hanne, who restored them to their original place.

«Thank you very much. I’m sorry once again if this seems odd, but it meant a great deal talking to you.», she stretches out her hand.

«Likewise, dear Hanne. It was lovely to meet you.»

Lix seemed to be going to take Hanne’s, but then said:

«It’s probably not very English of me, but I have to give you a hug. Oh, have I turned into one of those old ladies who go around hugging younger people even if they aren’t exactly thrilled with the prospect?»

« I don’t mind it at all», Hanne said, putting her arms around Lix. She smelled of a floral perfume.

« And you too», Lix said, turning to Ingrid, « I’m sorry if Journalism took charge of the conversation and you felt left out. »

«No, no, don’t worry», Ingrid mumbled, a bit surprised.

«I’m sorry but I’m afraid I have to leave. I have a meeting now», Lix said after a brief glimpse at her watch.

« We don’t mean to keep you, Ms. Storm.», Hanne said.

« Lix please. No one I know calls me Ms. Storm.»

Hanne couldn’t do much more than smile. Even if she thought of her as ‘Lix’ it would be too strange to address her in such a personal way.

«Goodbye. I really mean it when I say it was lovely to meet you.», Lix said, with a broad smile in her face.

«Thank you again. I hope I’ll make you proud, with my articles, I mean.», Hanne said, not knowing exactly why she had said that, even if it was something true to her feelings.

«I’m sure I am going to be.», Lix opened her leather briefcase and looked for something in the inside pockets, «send me some of them when they’re published.»,  she said, giving Hanne her business card.

«I… I don’t know what to say.», Hanne’s eyes darted from the card to Lix’s face.

«You don’t need to say anything. Just send me those articles when they’re published. I’ll need to brush it up, but I still remember some of my Danish.»

«I will.»

« Enjoy London, girls.», Lix said, waving them goodbye and making her way towards the building, looking behind a couple of times.

Hanne turned around when Lix entered the building, still stunned by what had just taken place.

«Are you alright?», Ingrid asked, without a single trace of irony.

« Yes. I think?», she ended up saying, after a small pause.

«Do you want to go catch the bus? We can still make it in time to visit the National Gallery.»

«Yes, let’s do that. Thank you for coming here with me.», Hanne said with a smile, putting her hand on her cousin’s arm.

«You're welcome.», Ingrid said.

* * *

Her cousin had gone to the front desk to ask for an extension and even if she wasn’t expected to be away for long, Hanne couldn’t wait anymore to check what Lix had written in her notebook.

She flicked through the pad until she found the page she was looking for.

When Ingrid returned to their room, Hanne had some tears left in her eyes, but the smile on her face lead her to know that everything was alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Characters aren't mine, things you may recognise aren't either and so isn't the bit I «used» to pass as an excerpt of an article written by Lix - it comes from the scene in The Hour where Lix remembers how in the midst of her coverage of the Spanish Civil War, people were being executed around her but she couldn't shake away the fact that she didn't have any more film.
> 
> I have no idea if there are temporary exhibitions at the BBC Archives or even if journalists make their way to work through paths possible visitors could be using as well. I just had this idea and sort of 'needed to get it out of my system'. I hope this doesn't spoil any possible enjoyment you may have taken from this story.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment or a kudo, if you feel inclined to it.
> 
> Thank you for your time!


End file.
